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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25138843">Stop Stealing My Clothes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites'>whenshewrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [45]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale is a Mess, Derek Hale is a Softie, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, Scenting, Sharing Clothes, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 01:57:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25138843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone keeps stealing Stiles's clothes, so his solution is to walk around in his boxers. Derek disagrees.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [45]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>757</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stop Stealing My Clothes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The thing is, Stiles was missing clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a long time to figure that out but when he did, he was pretty sure he was losing his mind. Because he wasn’t just missing a shirt or two; he was missing clothes. Like, lots of clothes. Like, a shirt every other day and sometimes a handful of his pants on the stray weekend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Stiles opened his closet and realized that he only had three shirts, two long sleeves, and three pairs of pants left, Stiles was sure something was going wrong. He wasn’t losing his mind. He most certainly wasn’t imagining anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was stealing his clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’s first assumption was Scott because the boy used to wear his t-shirts all the time when he came over for the weekend or from lacrosse practice. But Scott had been so busy with Allison lately, Stiles didn’t think he would’ve had the chance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which really narrowed the list down to… well, Stiles didn’t really know who else. The betas maybe, but he didn’t think anyone of them would be caught dead wearing his clothes. He’d already learned first hand that Derek didn’t fit into any of his clothes and Peter… well, Stiles didn’t even want to think about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d kill the man for a second time if Peter was laying a clawed finger on any of his clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was stealing his clothes, Stiles knew that for sure. He just didn’t know who. Or why. And it was starting to drive him crazy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Derek ducked through his bedroom that night, Stiles was sitting cross-legged on his bed playing video games. He startled so hard when the man came swinging through his window that he collapsed sideways and went sprawling to the floor, a sharp screaming noise coming from his x-box as his character was slain by zombies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek moved across the room slowly and gazed down at him, arching a brow. Stiles glowered right back up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoying the view, Sourwolf?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know,” Stiles said, waving his video game controller through the air. “Sometimes I get a little surprised when angry-browed werewolves come streaking through my window like Shadow the Hedgehog. Seriously, dude, do you not know how to use a door? My dad’s going to walk in on us one day and suspect some very inappropriate things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s face turned bright red and he stepped back. Stiles pushed himself up with a groan and brushed off his bare chest before leveling the man with a flat glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, can I help you? Or did you just come here to scare me out of my wits and make me lose in my game? I was setting a new high score by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... You’re not wearing any pants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And astounding observation, Sherlock. Do you have anything else to say or can I return to kicking some zombie ass?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles, you’re not wearing any clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles looked at him for a long moment. Then he glanced back down at himself; barechested, no pants, just his super awesome Batman boxers. He thought maybe he should be a little embarrassed but Derek had raided his private space, not the other way around. Stiles was not embarrassed at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cause someone keeps stealing my clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s eyes rounded. Stiles thought he looked a little shocked… and maybe a little scared? But that was Derek Hale, ladies and gentlemen. The man was an enigma. Stiles didn’t know what the hell was going on in his head half the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone is stealing your clothes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup,” Stiles said, launching himself back into bed. He restarted his game and continued to ignore the Alpha werewolf that was currently staring at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re not bothered by that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m pissed,” Stiles said. “But it’s a Friday night and that means I’m not worrying about anything except setting a new high score in Call of Duty: Zombies this weekend. Now either go downstairs and get me a snack, or make yourself scarce, because you’re harshing my vibe, dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek blinked at him a few times. Then he shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable and Stiles paused his game, glancing sideways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Sourwolf? You good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles raised an eyebrow. Derek started to turn away but then he glanced back, shrugging off his leather jacket and throwing it in Stiles’s face. Stiles squawked and his game made another screeching noise as he died for the second time that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, what the hell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wear that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles,” Derek said, a bit of red in his eyes. “Wear that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles glowered at him, but the man didn’t wait for another answer. Before Stiles could even say a word, Derek was ducking back out his window and, just like that, he was gone again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles blinked at his open window for a moment before glancing back at the jacket in his lap. For a moment, he debated pulling it on, but then he only shrugged and went back to his game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Werewolves, he thought, didn’t make sense. None of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Especially Derek Hale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Long after Stiles had beat his game and his bedtime had come and gone, he was still awake. Stiles had been spending the past week taking exams and he was determined to enjoy his weekend for every second that he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when Derek came ducking back through his window for the second time that night, Stiles wasn’t exactly taken off guard because he was asleep or anything. But he was taken off guard because what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell. </span>
  </em>
  <span>How did the man not know how to knock?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude!” Stiles said, rammed against the headboard with his baseball bat gripped tightly in his hands. “Use the door, knock, come on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek shifted nervously and Stiles realized the man had something in his hands. He blinked at it a few times and then lowered his bat, hoping off his bed and crossing the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek held a plastic bag, he realized. One full of t-shirts and pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not Stiles’s t-shirts or pants. Derek’s t-shirts and pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” Stiles said, blinking at them. Slowly, he raised his eyes back up and Derek was trying very hard to look anywhere but his face. “Derek, I’m not sure what you want me to do with these, but I’m not trying to bankrupt you of your clothes either. We can’t both go running around Beacon Hills in our boxers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re for you,” Derek said. “To wear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because, Stiles,” Derek said. It looked like he was gritting his teeth. “You aren’t wearing any clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles blinked dumbly at him a few times. Then a slow smile crept across his face and he tilted his head, splaying one hand across his chest. His very bare chest. Derek’s face turned even brighter red. “Oh, Sourwolf. Are you trying to preserve my dignity?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep that up and you won’t have any more dignity to preserve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles didn’t think that was an actual threat but his heart still leaped into his throat all the same. Derek’s face turned bright red as he seemed to hear his own words too, and he clenched his jaw, shoving the plastic bag into Stiles’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go put something on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” Stiles said. “I’m not planning on leaving my house all weekend. The only person who might see my half-naked presence is my father and he saw me fully naked when I first came into this world, so I really don’t think that’ll be a problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek actually looked like he could rip Stiles’s throat out. That also shouldn’t have made his heart skip a beat. “Stiles, wear the clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna wear the clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wear the clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to wear the clothes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek gave him a red-eyed look and Stiles’s stomach flipped. Before his lower body could decide to take on a life of its own, Stiles covered himself with the bag of clothes and turned, ducking out of the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could only thank god his dad was on a shift, because he didn’t know how he’d even begin to explain any of this if the Sheriff had seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five minutes later, Stiles came out in one of Derek’s giant henleys and sweatpants that were rolled around his waist three times. He stalked back to his room and threw the rest of Derek’s clothes onto his bed, giving the man a dark look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There, are you happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek actually did look a little pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I don’t know what kind of agenda this is backing, but I was trying to play some video games for the next twelve hours,” Stiles said, grabbing his console and launching himself back into bed. “As I let you know earlier, which was clearly ignored. Now, unless you want to join in, you can get your little werewolf ass back out the window or I’m going to take a baseball bat to your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek blinked at him. Then he turned and pulled himself out the window, gone like Shadow the Hedgehog for the second time that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles didn’t understand anything sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two weeks later, Stiles finally decided it was time to stop eyeing Derek’s forgotten leather jacket on the edge of his bed and bring it back to the loft. He’d been tempted more than once to give it a wear, but he’d chickened out every time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was slightly terrified Derek would hunt him down rip his throat out for ever tainting his jacket. Or the man would get all weird again— like he had been for every day that led up until the one Stiles had convinced his dad to take him out clothes shopping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he showed up at the loft though, it was startling quiet. And seemingly empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles poked around in each room until he plodded into Derek’s. Then he froze to see the man fast asleep in his bed, buried underneath a pile of blankets and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No </span>
  <em>
    <span>way.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles blinked at the mound of his own clothes. His plaid t-shirts, an occasional pair of jeans. Stiles realized his mouth was hanging open and he closed it with a snap; and Derek startled awake so hard, this time it was the man rolling straight out of bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grey-green eyes flicked up and Derek looked like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes were round and his face was pale. Stiles thought it would be the most amusing thing he’d ever seen if not for the fact that the man was sleeping surrounded by his clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His </span>
  <em>
    <span>clothes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This was going to be such a long conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Stiles said, leaning against the doorway and kind of enjoying the fear in Derek’s eyes. “I guess now I know where half my wardrobe went.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek stayed frozen on the floor. Stiles smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s have a talk, Sourwolf.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the prompt: “Now I know where half my wardrobe went.” and I'm such a sucker for clothes sharing/scenting fics. I hope you all enjoyed!!</p><p>Come hang with me on Tumblr?</p><p>  <a href="https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/">the dumpster</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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